


Teen, Idle

by Caeslin



Series: TezuRyo age gap AUs [2]
Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Popstar, Fantasizing, M/M, Masturbation, One-Sided Attraction, Phone Calls & Telephones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 12:14:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14832075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caeslin/pseuds/Caeslin
Summary: Ryoma is Japan's newest up-and-coming pop sensation. Tezuka is his stern, demanding dance coach. Their relationship is strictly professional, but that doesn't stop Ryoma from wanting to blur the lines sometimes.





	Teen, Idle

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](https://pb-anon.dreamwidth.org/1146.html?thread=51322#cmt51322) at the Porn Battle Anon Meme for the prompts "want, voice, telephone, shameless." Crossposted to [Livejournal](https://caeslin.livejournal.com/16057.html) and [Dreamwidth](https://caeslin.dreamwidth.org/15826.html).

Ryoma got these earbuds for free after shooting a commercial for Vose. The shoot was boring and now he has to hear LOADED SOUL whenever he watches TV, but he guesses they're an okay trade-off; he's since seen the same model on sale at fancy electronics stores for a hundred and twenty thousand yen. 

"Just make sure to wear them when you're out," said the Vose PR person as she pressed them into his hands. "And keep the logo facing out, in case you get your photo taken."

He had been about to ask what sort of camera could pick up the logo on a pair of earbuds, but a warning look from Tezuka had made him shut up.

They're high quality, at least: good levels, no distortion. Maybe not worth shelling out a hundred twenty thousand yen for, but they easily beat the crummy earbuds that came with his smartphone. He wriggles into a more comfortable spot on his bed and turns the volume up.

 _"I'll take a deep breath, and bare my heart to you,"_ croons the voice of a sixteen-year-old Tezuka Kunimitsu. Dumb lyrics -- Ryoma is pretty sure Tezuka has never bared his heart to anyone -- but he sounds good singing them, a big improvement over the muzak version of this song that plays sometimes when Ryoma is at the supermarket. When the track ends, he skips it back to the beginning.

It's late enough that the rest of the house is quiet, everyone but him asleep. He lays back in the dark and lets the sound wash over him. There's a bar just before the first chorus where Tezuka's voice dips deep and confidential. It reminds Ryoma of --

_"Commit to every gesture." Tezuka is rarely loud but something about the way he speaks gives his words an extra gravity. His hands are firm and professional on Ryoma's body as he makes the necessary adjustments to his posture: hips forward, chest open, arm fully extended. Finally he nudges Ryoma's chin, tilting his head back._

_Ryoma lets himself be molded. He feels the gap of centimeters between his back and Tezuka's chest. If he took half a step back, they'd be in full contact._

_Just then, Tezuka retreats. "Good," he says, all business. "Now, again from 'Everything I hear.'"_

They've been practicing every day this week in preparation for Ryoma's upcoming live. The sessions leave Ryoma tired and sore but he doesn't hate them, at least not as much as some of the other idol things he's stuck doing. Tezuka is a good dance instructor, strict but patient. 

It's weird to reconcile that version of him with the intimate, confessional tone of this song, but lyrics aside, the voice in Ryoma's ears is identical to the one that tells him every day to stand up straight and not be sloppy hitting his mark. Tezuka was only a little older than Ryoma when he recorded this single, but even back then he sounded like he was going on forty.

A tiny shiver courses through Ryoma's body as Tezuka draws out the final note. It sounds raw; almost vulnerable. 

When the track ends this time, he lets it segue into the next one. It's a faster, more driving number. He can instantly picture the sort of choreography that must have gone with it, the sleek athleticism that Tezuka would have brought to the steps back before he worked himself to an early retirement. A lot of Ryoma's own music is this tempo and his body knows instinctively where to put the turns, the slides, the hip rolls that Tezuka must have done. 

Outisde his door, he hears Karupin meow. He feels a little guilty. He'll get him later, if he hasn't decided to betray Ryoma and go sleep in Nanako's room instead. For now he stays in bed, keeping one hand on his phone and tracing his free one absently down his stomach. He thinks about the line of Tezuka's body and feels tension kindling low in his belly, heating him from within.

 _"My heart is going crazy as I kiss that gaze,"_ sings Tezuka, no help at all.

Ryoma's gut gives a little twist as he reaches under his clothes and past the band of his underwear, to where he's gotten halfway hard. At first he doesn't do more than cup himself, just breathing into the pulse of the music. His hand is uncomfortably chilly against his bare skin. It's only once it's warmed up that he starts, slowly, to move.

In Ryoma's last interview for Blink Up, they wouldn't stop asking him about girls. What was his type, did he have an ideal date spot, had he ever fallen in love, did he prefer short or long hair. The interviewer smiled at him when he said, truthfully, that he didn't care about anything but music; "You will soon," she said. This appears to be common belief -- now that he's in high school, even his dad seems to think that Ryoma's going to start stealing his dirty magazines the second he turns away -- but Ryoma doesn't get what's supposed to be so great about amusement park dates, or racy pictures of girls in school uniforms. He's seen lots of girls in school uniforms in real life and they're mostly just loud and giggly.

Even now, touching himself like this, he's not thinking about love or tight embraces or any of the other things Tezuka sings about in these songs. Ryoma can't imagine going on an amusement park date with him any more than he can his female fans. But the way Tezuka sings -- the way he does everything -- it makes goosebumps prickle on Ryoma's skin just like a good piece of music does. Sometimes when it's just the two of them together in a room, he gets this sense of vertigo, like he's right on the edge of a cliff. 

His clothing situation is starting to get uncomfortable. Ryoma kicks off his blankets and pulls down his briefs so that he can move his hand more freely. His playlist segues into the next track -- _Never Surrender_ , okay, he can work with _Never Surrender_ \-- and he closes his eyes, feeling the beat and the friction as one, thinking of Tezuka's stern gaze and the sheen of sweat on his skin after a session, the way it makes his shirt stick to his back, the gross but persistent urge Ryoma sometimes gets to bury his face in his collarbone and just breathe him in.

He could finish just like this, easy. He can already sense his release building, could maybe even fit it in before the verse ends if he really applies himself the way Tezuka is always telling him to.

Instead, swallowing, he pauses the track and thumbs over to his call history. The display glows blue in the dark. Tezuka's number is at the top, and before he can think twice he's pressed the call button.

He tries to get his breathing under control as he pulls the phone up to his ear. Tezuka picks up just as he's got it into position.

"Hello?"

Hearing his voices makes Ryoma's pulse jump. No regrets. He listens to the faint, staticky sound of Tezuka's breathing, and doesn't stop moving his hand.

"Echizen. Is everything all right?"

"Yeah," he says at last. Readjusts his grip, to keep it from cramping. His mouth feels cottony. "Where are you?"

"I'm at home."

He's never actually seen Tezuka's apartment, but he can picture it easily: clean, for sure, and likely way less cluttered than Ryoma's own house. He imagines Tezuka sitting on an immaculately-made bed, folding his clothes neatly before putting them away for the night. His nightly routine probably doesn't involve jerking off. "Doing what?" he asks.

There's a pause; he can practically hear Tezuka's brow furrowing. "Reading," is the eventual, halting reply. "Echizen, you should be in bed. We have rehearsal at eight tomorrow."

"I am in bed. Can't sleep."

"Talking on the phone isn't going to help."

Ryoma doesn't answer. He wonders if the sound of him stroking himself is loud enough for the phone to pick up. It can't be, right?

"I'll see you tomorrow," says Tezuka. "Good night."

"Wait," he says -- a little breathless, but hopefully Tezuka will just attribute that to hastiness. "I wanted to ask. About rehearsal tomorrow." It's hard to come up with a convincing lie and jerk off at the same time, but he knows he only has a few seconds before Tezuka hangs up on him and he does his best. "Can we go over _Fight to the End_ one more time? I kind of forgot the bridge part."

Silence on the other end of the line. This would be a terrible time to switch to video, but Ryoma is suddenly temped. What would Tezuka's expression even look like?

At last there's a sigh. "You're supposed to be practicing these songs at home."

He has, actually; he could do the whole _Fight to the End_ sequence in his sleep. "I know. I remember almost all of it. Just not the bridge."

He imagines Tezuka watching him perform, and the image makes him curl his toes. There are a lot of fans who think he's hot and Tezuka is definitely not among them -- Ryoma has tested him -- but in Ryoma's head he can react however Ryoma wants him to. He pictures Tezuka getting hard at the movement of his body, swallowing, unable to look away.

On the other end of the line, Tezuka says, "If you go to bed, and if you show up on time, we may have time to review."

Ryoma’s orgasm catches him by surprise, right in the middle of the sentence. He swallows his voice but can't disguise the heaviness of his breath as all the tension seeps out of him, leaving a warmth in his chest and a sticky wetness on his thighs. He's going to have to clean that up before he dries, but his tissues are on the other side of the bed. It can wait.

A few seconds pass. The line is silent.

"Yeah," he says. "Okay. I'll be there."

**Author's Note:**

> Further listening:
> 
>  
> 
> [Echizen Ryoma - Loaded Soul](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6tQVnLe1wFo)  
> [Echizen Ryoma - Free as a Bird ~ Return to T ~](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rAiacNnjDj0)  
> [Echizen Ryoma - Fight to the End](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jVhJ2SkDDV0)
> 
>  
> 
> [Tezuka Kunimitsu - Shinkokyuu ~ Dedicated to E ~](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QTCBuFDQy9Y)  
> [Tezuka Kunimitsu - KISS](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KTU2EzkvYF4)  
> [Tezuka Kunimitsu - Never Surrender](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-RJHgGUR5bE)


End file.
